Warts and All
by jin fenghuang
Summary: In love and war all is... not turning out as expected.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Warts and All

Author: Jin Fenghuang

Pairing: Snape/Harry

Rating: NC17

Length: ~11 000 words

Notes: This is the first part of a series of three. It can be read as a stand alone. Thanks to E, V, I, D and R for the beta, concrit and encouragement.

:::

Harry stood under the warm spray of the shower, his eyes closed to fend off the bright glare of the early morning. Wishing he could go back to bed, snuggle back into soft covers, hide from the day in the cosy gloom of the four-poster's curtains. He settled - with a grown up sigh of the inevitable - for enjoying the warm caress for just one more precious second.

The alarm on his wireless went off for the third time, starting to blare saccharinely cheerful wake-up songs. He resisted the urge to hex it. Or, at least, to throw a bottle at it. That would require effort.

Sleepily, he fumbled for the shampoo, flicked it open with his thumb and squirted. The empty bottle squelched. Frustrated, Harry turned it over and shook it, willing the nonexistent shampoo to, well, exist. It refused.

He squeezed again. Harder. The bottle blew him a raspberry.

Harry sighed and tossed it into the bin, examining the collection of containers on the rim of the bathtub. Lotion, nail-polish remover, exfoliant, small blue bubbles in a jar - he didn't even want to know what they were for.

Rose-scented shaving crème, bath salt, - sheesh Ginny, since when did casual include moving in with all your stuff, and who on Earth needed that many beauty products anyway... - conditioner, facial foam, shower gel...

Harry reached for the last, the bottle had a waterfall of tiny flowers and hearts on it. He wrinkled his nose at the cloying flowery scent. He shrugged. Soap was soap, right?

Freshly showered and reeking only slightly of roses Harry stepped into his kitchen. His dark kitchen. His dark kitchen devoid of food.

He decided that it was way too early in the morning for this kind of shit.

"Kreacher, where is my breakfast?

"Kreacher..." Where was that bloody elf, he was going to be late for work. "KREACHER!"

His voice echoed in the silence of Grimmauld place.

Oh damn! Right... Kreacher was not here. He was over at Bill and Fleur's. Why did doing the nice thing and lending them his house elf have to involve him missing breakfast? Surely babies could not be that much work, could they? Maybe he could ask for Kreacher back ... part-time.

Rummaging through the cupboards he came up with a half empty box of stale oatmeal biscuits. But not coffee. Or tea. Or juice.

He tried to conjure a cup of tea and eyed the foul-smelling result carefully. It looked the right shade, though.

One sip, and a lot of spitting, coughing and rinsing his mouth under the tab later, Harry decided on Tesco's.

:::

There would be a day when Harry would learn how to gracefully exit the Floo. Soon, he promised himself, and then tumbled crashing into someone. Flailing wildly, he knocked his victim down and pinned him to the floor.

"For fucks sake, Potter! Do you have to be such an oaf?"

It had to be Snape. Of all the people that worked in the Ministry, it had to be him.

"Don't answer that, it was rhetorical." Snape's hand pushed against his shoulders." And get off me, Potter! You smell like a prissy room-spray!"

"Ehm ... " Harry mumbled, and wondered where his sudden urge to stay close to Snape had come from when a second ago all he had wanted to do was blow up in his face.

Harry got off the ground, grinning sheepishly, his anger turning to concern. "Are you alright?"

Sitting up, Snape glared up at him. Harry held out his hand and the man eyed it with suspicion.

"Would it help if I said I am sorry?"

Snape harrumphed and ignored the proffered hand.

Harry shrugged, indifferent. "Well, fine then, suit yourself." After all he counted himself lucky, there could have been a hex or two.

"Is there any reason why you flooed into the tea room and not into your office? Other than to harass me..." Snape pocketed something wrapped in a blue-chequered handkerchief.

Harry briefly thought about asking what it was he was filching from the staff room but 'hey what's in your package, Snape?' did not seem the right thing to say to the man he had just knocked over.

"Ehm, coffee?" Harry said instead, looking around hopefully.

Snape gestured at the steaming pot on the counter. "Do I look like a house-elf to you?"

Picking up the semi crushed bag of baked goods Harry had bought on his way here, he dumped them onto a clean plate, shaking bits of flaked of icing from the bag into his mouth. Harry poured himself a mug of coffee and then in a grand gesture of magnanimity he decided to pour one for Snape, too. Smiling apologetically he offered the mug to his former professor, who, to Harry's surprise, took it without a fuss.

"Uh, sir, you got a bit... of dust there"

Harry pointed at Snape's usually immaculate robes, where one or two dust bunny dared to mar their charcoal blackness. Snape put the mug down on the counter, murmured a charm and his robes magically cleaned themselves of wrinkles and dust.

"Wow, that is a neat charm! And I am sorry about crashing into you. Really." Harry offered the plate to Snape. "Iced bun? "

Snape snorted. "Oh my, Potter. I didn't know you cared..."

Harry blushed a furious, bright fuchsia. Trying to hide his embarrassment he took a sip of his coffee. And spluttered. "Sheesh, Snape, did you transfigure this from flobberworms? This tastes worse than when Ron makes it."

"Too strong for you, Potter?" Snape gave him a condescending sneer, "I should have known. Not man enough for grown-up coffee? I am sure there is some Ovaltine somewhere in the cupboards."

"Hah, bloody hah!" Harry reached for the sugar and added a generous amount into this coffee. "Don't tell me you made that. I think I will take some home and use it to strip Mrs Black off the wall."

That got him a snort that sounded surprisingly like suppressed laughter. "And yet, Potter, you are still drinking it. I wonder what that says about you ..."

"Morning!" The door opened and a cheerful witch in her mid-thirties bounced in, her smile faltering when she took in the occupants of the room. She blushed bright red, smiling at Harry in a rather insipid way.

"Morning, Susan." He gave her a forced smile, stepping back, behind Snape he whispered, "Save me!"

Snape gave him an amused look and took the plate from Harry's hand giving Susan what passed -- for him -- as a winning smile. "Iced bun, Miss Farrington?"

"Why? Eh... thank you." She reluctantly took one, holding it by the tips of her fingers at arm length as if it might explode any second.

"Oy, those are mine!" Harry made a grab for one before Snape could pull them all out of reach. He failed.

"Were, Potter. Were. Grammar was never your strong suit."

Harry swore he saw Snape grin before the door closed behind him. Harry found himself returning the sentiment.

"What a git." Susan gave the bun a disgusted look and set it down onto the table. "Do you want this? I'm not going to eat it. Who knows what he did to it."

She shuddered.

"Give it here!" Harry snapped, grabbing the pastry and taking a big bite. "I trust him!"

He took his coffee and made for his office, slamming the door on his way out.


	2. Chapter 2

Half-eaten bun in his mouth he gave his office door a magical nudge. It swung open and Harry walked in. He was greeted by an overenthusiastic Ginny who planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Merump cophe!" He tried to free himself.

Ginny removed the bun from his mouth. "Nice roast pig imitation you got going there, Harry." She took a bite from the pastry. "Good bun, though."

"I said 'careful, coffee' and that was my breakfast, Ginny" Harry sounded more than a little miffed. What was it with people and his food today?

Ginny stepped back, licking the icing off her fingers. "Oops, sorry. Did you spill some?"

"No thanks you to..."

"Oh my, aren't we grumpy today!"

"Sorry, Gin, just not my day." He put the coffee down on his desk, offering his arms up for a more welcoming hug, tugging her under his chin. "Sweet Gin, what can I do for you?"

She poked him gently with a finger. "So, you did forget. I figured. Sunday?"

He gave her a blank look.

"The naming. Bill and Fleur's daughter."

"Oh, shit. Thanks, Gin, I kinda forgot..."

Ginny patted him gently on the shoulder. "Aren't you glad that you have me?"

She took a sip of his coffee and grimaced, carefully putting the mug down.

"Very much so. Damn, this means I need a present... could you?"

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, I could. I was just stopping by to remind you that we are going shopping today after work." She kissed him on the cheek again. "I have to get going. Have a good one. "

:::

His stomach growling with the hunger of a reluctantly shared breakfast, he put down his quill and made his way down to subterranean canteen deep in the vaults of the ministry. People greeted him on his way. Harry nodded in acknowledgement. He had learned a long time ago that if he just smiled and nodded they would go away. Walking fast also helped.

The canteen was crowded, as was to be expected at this hour. Rows and rows of tables running up and down the rough hewn walls were occupied by various Ministry officials, Aurors, clerks - each group ferociously staking their claim to a certain group of tables.

It reminded him a bit of Hogwarts, but not in a good way. There were even banners, if not for houses but for departments. One rather obnoxious one demanded 'constant vigilance'. Harry gripped his tray harder. Thank you, Mad Eye.

He walked past the hushed conversation of the accounting clerks -- who had known there were that many shades of respectable grey and, Harry grimaced, unfunny novelty ties? -- towards the much more boisterous MLE tables. Pointedly ignoring the waving hands and 'Hey, Harry's, he walked past quickly, shuddering at the new fad of magical eyes that followed him across the room. It reminded him of detention in Snape's office, filled with canned slimy things. Some things, he concluded, he was happier not seeing. Especially not right before lunch. Or ever.

Pondering where he could eat his lunch with the least amount of harassment, he noticed a lone figure bent over a bowl of soup. Snape was sitting at the far end of the table occupied by most of the staff of International Magical Trading.

Harry took the seat opposite him. Snape put his spoon down with a clang. A speck of tomato-soup stained the corner of his mouth, blood red on dead-white skin. Harry watched in fascination as the pink tip of Snape's tongue sneaked out from between his chapped lips, capturing the errant drop of soup, leaving them clean and white as milk.

"Potter, you have already fulfilled your daily 'harass Snape' quota. Please, go away!" His greasy hair obscured his face, making his expression unreadable.

"Why, hallo to you too." Harry dipped his spoon into the already congealing soup, grimaced and cast a heating charm. The soup glooped, a curtain of steam rose and fogged his glasses.

"Why don't go sit with your little chums? They like you." Snape tore up the remainders of his roll and tossed them into the soup. They swam for a second, turned a soggy red and sank.

"I like this seat. Besides, you keep the flies away." Harry finished polishing his glasses with his shirt-sleeve and put them back on, grinning at Snape.

"Excuse me?" Snape, putting down his cutlery with a clang, looked ready to hex him.

Harry flicked his hand in a dismissive gestured towards the general direction of the Minister. "The flies."

"Well, it is good to be of some use to our hero." Snape's sneer still could have curdled milk, but he looked slightly less likely to curse Harry's innards inside out.

"You are a hero, too, you know."

"You are delusional. I am not, nor will I ever be, a hero." Snape took one vicious stab at the spongy mess in his bowl and pushed it away.

" I have never really thanked you, have I?" Harry licked the outside of his spoon.

"Potter, this is not a confessional. Did you shrink tell you to get closure?"

"I don't have a shrink!" And at Snape's half hidden snicker he added, "Nor do I need one! Thank you so very much! All I was going to do is offer you an apology, you prat."

Snape snorted, somewhat mollified. "And what and odd way of showing it you do have. Besides, I don't think reality could survive that hit."

"Of what? Me apologising? Let's give it a try, then. If reality shatters I don't have to read the minutes of that last blasted department meeting." Harry grinned. "Fine, here we go: I apologise for all the times I was a prat to you in the past."

"Be still my beating heart." Snape peeled the wrapper off a candy bar, taking a cautious bite.

"Today is the 18th, if you want to mark the day in your calendar." Harry took another bite of his lunch.

He had the impression that Snape - again - was hiding a smile. They ate in companionable silence for a while. Snape finished his dessert and looked at his watch. His chair scraped against the wooden floor as he stood up. He inclined his head in a silent good bye.

"Potter."

"Snape." Harry gave him a bright smile that caused a confused look to appear on Snape's face. There was the barest lift in the corners of his mouth.

Something in Harry glowed. Snape had smiled back. Snape had smiled at him.

:::

The Burrow glowed like a jewel in the early evening gloom, all bright light and laughter. Harry loved Apparating to a spot a little away, on higher ground, so that he could admire it from afar before he was enveloped into its aura of home and family. So warm and beautiful that he never could quiet believe that he belonged.

The evening breeze carried wisps of laughter and music and Harry found himself smiling. He stepped out of the clearing, slowly making his way down to the Burrow, anticipation in his step.

His knuckles barely touched the wood before the door was yanked open and he found himself in Molly's motherly arms, happily suffocating. Ginny rescued him seconds later, kissing him chastely on the cheek, whispering dirty promises of later into his ear that made him blush in anticipation.

She grabbed him by the hand, lacing their fingers together. "Come on, you are expected to see little Victoire. 'se ees tres adorablech." At Harry's shocked expression she conceded, "You have no idea what I have through all day."

Ginny accioed their joined present . It smacked into Harry's chest. She gave him a long-suffering smile and started pulling him towards the sound of a wailing infant.

"Ron and Hermione said we are going to the pub later. Let's get this over with and get out of here so that I can get a real drink."Ginny led him into the living room where, on a rocking chair padded with quilts and cushions, Fleur sat rocking a tiny crying bundle wrapped in pink blankets.

"I wish it had an off button."

"Ginny!"

"Oh come on, you have NOT been here all day. One more hour and I am going to silencio the little bundle of joy myself."

Harry squeezed her hand in sympathy. Little Victoire really had an amazing vocal range.

Before he could even greet Fleur, he was gently pushed aside by Molly swooping down on Fleur, taking the baby from her arms, cooing softly.

"There, there, little one. No need to cry. Grandma's got you. There is a good little Victoria."

"'er name is Victoire!" There was a sharp edge to Fleur's voice that Harry had never heard before.

"Hush, you are going to make her cry again." Molly ran a soothing hand down the baby's back. "We can't have our Victoria crying, can we?"

"'er name is Victoire. Molly, vraimont! I 'ave asked you many times not to call her Victoria."

Molly kept on cooing to the now happily gurgling baby, turning her back to the furious Fleur, who was stomping her foot.

"Bill! Come over 'ere and say something! She is your daughter, too."

Bill's 'coming, dear' could not have sounded more forced.

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand tighter, whispering, "All sodding day..."

Pulling his smarting hand free, Harry gave no one in particular a happy smile and put the present down on the sideboard.

:::

They Apparated to the Hog's Head from outside the Burrow. The door slammed shut, cutting off the latter half of Molly's tirade about how flooing from the living room to a pub always made the whole room smell of old smoke and beer and how bad that was for poor little Victoria and why wouldn't they stay and have a nice cup of tea with the family?

Harry always thought having a family would be wonderful. He was beginning to have his doubts.

The air in the Hog's Head was indeed so thick one could have cut it and sold it as bricks, heavy with the smoke of the wood fire and insufficient plumbing and ventilation spells. Ron and Hermione had staked out a booth in the back of the room, waving frantically at them to come over.

Neville and Luna joined them a bit later and after a beer or two someone suggested a drinking game. Hermione had frowned on it at first but reluctantly admitted that maybe it was fun after all. After her third shanty she was certain.

Harry untangled himself from a clingy Ginny, and scooted his stool back, standing up.

"Where're you going?" Ginny yawned jaw-creakingly.

"The loo. Anyone up for a last round? On me."

"If it is on you, mate, always!" Which earned Ron a reprimanding punch from Hermione, who by now was sitting on his lap.

Harry made his way over to the door to the outhouse, swaying just the tiniest bit. Passing by the bar he saw Snape, starched white shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, leaning heavily on the bar, ordering a half-pint of lager, slamming his coins onto the tabletop. Who would have thought Snape did social?


	3. Chapter 3

Harry wiped his hands on his jeans, closing the back door behind him. The weather was still rather chilly for this time of the year.

Snape was still standing at the end of the bar, his face a storm-cloud, posture rigid.

The barkeep took the order of a chubby blond wizard, ignoring Snape's inquiry about the whereabouts of his drink. Harry joined the queue.

Five minutes and four orders later, Snape was still waiting for his pint.

"Two half-pints of lager, two butterbeer, a bitter and two dark ale shanties."

He promptly got his order and shoved one lager over toward the now-seething Snape.

"I think this is yours." Harry gave him a conspiratorial smile.

Snape's long bony fingers took a hold on the earthenware mug. "Mind your own fucking business, Potter." He knocked back his half-pint in one long swallow and slammed the mug back onto the counter, breaking it.

Harry watched him wipe the foam of his mouth with the back of his hand and felt defeated.

"Sorry, I was just..."

"What are you staring at? Did I destroy your warm glow of magnanimity?" It was funny how Snape, being only marginally taller than Harry, could still loom over him menacingly.

"But, I ..."

"You what? You didn't think? Why am I not surprised. Go and patronize those who give a damn."

Harry watched Snape flounce off, his, head held high. Harry levitated his drinks back to their booth., feeling agitated.

Straightening his shoulders, Harry carefully set the drinks on the table. Ginny had plucked one of the daisies from its vase, pulling out one pedal at a time.

"He loves me" A petal fell, "He loves me not..." She looked up at him, as he sat down on his stool, the small pile of white pedals scattering when he reached for his drink. Taking a deep drink from his lager, Ginny leaned against him, her soft hair tickling against his neck.

"Honestly, Harry, why do you bother? You know he is an arse."

He put an arm around her and she snuggled closer. Her hair smelled unpleasantly of roses.

"Really, he should be grateful. Got out of Azkaban scot-free. Working under Ministry supervision is hardly a punishment. Poor old Dumbledore. Can't really blame people for being miffed."

He turned his head away. Snape had picked up his cloak and wrapped it around himself in a rather good bat imitation. Their eyes met and Snape bestowed him with a condescending sneer that transported Harry straight back to his detention days. He swallowed hard. This was ridiculous, why did he let Snape get to him so much?

"Harry? Did you even listen to a word I said?" Ginny pursed her lips looking rather a lot like Molly at her most disapproving. "What are you thinking about? I am rather sure it is not me."

Harry cringed and stared into his beer. "Yes, but ..." He squeezed her shoulder not knowing what to say. "Let's go home, Ginny. It is getting late."

:::

"I am sorry."

"You already said that. Twice." Ginny pulled on her blouse with rigid movements.

"I know. I am -"

"Don't say it!"

Harry winced, sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, the bed sheet draped around his waist.

"Gin, I have been under a lot of stress recently..."

"We haven't had sex for over a month now. Harry, I have needs, too. There isn't somebody else, is there?" She sat down heavily on the bed, her head in her hands. "This is all my fault..."

"No! Look, Gin. I guess.... This doesn't mean... Please don't cry." He awkwardly tried to pat her on the back. She shrugged his hand off, face blotchy with unshed tears.

"I just wanted us to be happy." She hiccoughed. "You know, as a couple. It feels like you are never really with me, no matter how hard I try. What did I do wrong? Don't you love me?"

"Of course I do. That is not... I would never say that!"

"Well, I must have done something..." She gestured at his crotch. "Makes it kind of obvious that I did. But what?"

Ginny finished buttoning up her blouse, hunting on the floor for her left shoe.

"Harry?" Her voice was softer now, pleading. "I don't want to lose you. I love you too much. I .. we... maybe we work better as friends, after all. Let's just... let's take a break... at least for a while, you know. So that we can think about what we mean to each other. Let's... let's be friends, okay?"

"What? Just because I can't... once?" Harry looked up at her, incredulous. What on earth was happening. "Are you dumping me?"

She grabbed her purse from the chair. "Please, Harry, don't make this harder than it is. I love you. Please? I don't want to lose you, too."

Harry had turned on the bed, staring at her in disbelief. "You are dumping me! I don't get it, what is this all about, Gin?"

"I... I am flooing home... owl me." She sounded as if she was close to crying again.

"Don't forget to take your stupid ..." The whoosh of the floo flared like his anger.

Fine, if she was going to be that way. Harry punched the pillow. He could play that game too! See if he would owl her first.

:::

Harry punched his pillow for the umpteenth time and turned over to face the wall. Every time he closed his eyes Ginny's parting words echoed in his mind, looping into a cacophony of misery and guilt. What the hell was she talking about losing him? He was right here, she was the one who had walked out on him, Goddamnit.

Harry finally got up and went into the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet over the sink, he rummaged through the vials for Dreamless Sleep. His fist closed around the familiar blue vial. Of course, given his luck today it just had to be sodding empty.

Harry tossed the empty vial into the bin. Life seemed to conspiring against him again. Maybe if he took a long hot shower?

Stepping under the spray he started to relax, the soothing warmth of the water washing away part of his misery. Reaching up to adjust the temperature, his glance fell on the various bottles, pots and vials Ginny had accumulated on the sill. His temper roared. Hadn't he told her to take her stupid stuff?

His magic flared, glass shattered, showering the tub, the tiled wall and Harry in shards and various beauty products. Some of it started to bubble. Cursing his temper, he banished the mess, washing off the multicoloured goo that had stuck to him.

He winced as soap stung in the tiny cuts the glass had left on his skin. Feeling drained and slightly calmer now that his anger had found a magical outlet, he dried himself off and went back to bed. Warm and snug between the sheets, sleep came easily. As did dreams.

:::

And pleasant dreams they were indeed. Warm, soft limbs wound around Harry's dream-self, long, graceful fingers ghosted over his body, leaving desire in their wake, threading through his hair, stroking his prick.

Arching up to capture his dream lover's teasing lips in a heated kiss, Harry's hands reached up to thread through long greasy hair, Snape smiling down at him.

Harry woke panting, screaming out his orgasm just as Snape's thin lips wrapped tightly around his prick, sucking him to an earth-shattering climax.

He sat up in bed, rubbing the palms of his hand over his eyes. What the hell was wrong with him? Having a wet dream about Snape of all people. This had to be some fucked up reaction to the fight he had had with Ginny. And lunch. Damn her. This was all her fault.

Harry squinted at his alarm clock, the numbers a faint eerie green in the early morning gloom of his bedroom. The very early morning gloom. He cursed.

Five thirty was not a time he wished to be wide awake. Taking his 3rd shower in less than 24 hours Harry tried to wash away the evidence and memory of that bizarrely arousing dream.


	4. Chapter 4

Take-out boxes with ancestral chow-mien, a half empty jar of chutney, a dried up onion and some garlic that had taken root in the vegetable box. Harry poked at the contents of his cold box, and sighed. How long again before he could ask for Kreacher back?

He pulled out the one can of green beans that had been hiding in the yawning emptiness of his cupboards and tossed it into the bin. No power on this planet could make him eat green beans ever again. He had had to eat more than his share during his years with the Dursleys as green beans were one of the few things Dudley despised, and would thus be in ample supply as leftovers for Harry to eat.

Grabbing his coat, making sure he had his wallet on him, Harry decided that he would eat out. That was what restaurants were for. Eating out.

Twenty minutes and one lonesome walk into Muggle London later, Harry found himself seated on the sticky plastic chair of a hole-in-the wall greasy spoon.

The fry up was good, plentiful and came on a chipped white plate. Harry didn't mind. He strew salt onto his sunny side up, happily dipping his soldiers into the runny yolk.

The restaurant's grimy swing-doors opened and with the plastic-y rattling of the pink beaded-curtain, a sloshed couple tumbled in, carrying in laughter and the smoky smell of a night spent in the clubs.

The girl had bright red hair pulled back in a tight pony tail and big, sparkly, hoop earrings. Her bangled arms were draped around the slim hips of a fit young man, about Harry's age, in a white shiny track suit with sky-blue racing stripes.

They sat at one of the tables near the door. Harry could make out snatches of their drunken attempts of a whispered conversation.

The bloke tried to slide his hand under the girl's tight pink top, but was swatted away repeatedly. "Not in front of the suit!"

"He wont mind! Who would mind a peek at those prime tits of yours?"

The girl giggled.

Harry unfolded his newspaper with an annoyed flap. Stupid happy couples. See if he cared.

:::

The canteen was much more crowded today with the new trainee Aurors being back from boot camp. Their numbers would dwindle, as they always did, after the first written exams.

Harry smiled, remembering his days as a trainee Auror. As he waited in line for his lunch, trying to make up his mind if it should include jam roly-poly, he observed the hustle and bustle going on in the lunch room.

"Your order, Mr Potter. Mr Potter?"

"Oh, eh, why yes, I'll have the spotted dick, Mildred. And the jam roly-poly." He gave her a winning smile and pushed his tray on.

Ron should be back too, and busy as always with paperwork. Harry snickered. As Ron told anyone who would listen, his trainees got dumber and dumber every year. He really had the old Snape routine down quite well. Harry watched the tables fill and sighed. With the room this crowded there was no escaping an awkward lunch conversation.

He noticed Snape, who had apparently been a couple of people in front of him, taking his lunch tray and making his way to the tables. A movement went through the room and Harry could see people elbow their unobservant neighbours. He frowned at the odd behaviour, puzzled.

Jackets were placed over the backs of chairs, people scooted closer together. Harry watched, first in amazement then in disgust, as recently empty chairs suddenly became 'reserved' the moment Snape made for them. Snape's back straightened, his face a carefully blank mask as he was snubbed table after table.

"Mr Potter!"

"Uh, sorry."

Harry turned and pressed the tip of his wand to the counter, validating the charge to his meal account. Taking his tray, he walked over to two adjacent empty seats.

He gave the other occupants of the table a blinding smile as jackets and purses were hurriedly removed to make room for him.

"Hallo. Mind if I sit here?"

There was a chorus of gratingly enthusiastic "Why, Mr Potter, of course not".

Harry put his tray down on the table, waving one hand in the air.

"Snape! Oy, Severus, over here. Here!" He enjoyed the horrified look on their faces. Several of them shot him dirty glances.

Snape seemed to inwardly debate his next course of action but then, to Harry's surprise and delight, took the seat opposite him.

"Mr Potter. I see you are feeling magnanimous again." He inclined his head in greeting.

"Harry. And I have no idea what you are talking about." He gave Snape an innocent smile that made his former Professor snort. "Well, I called you Severus just now, it would only be fair."

"Fair, Harry," Snape stabbed viciously at a piece of sausage, "has nothing to do with it."


	5. Chapter 5

It had been raining for days now. The drizzle was fine and insistent enough to worm its way through any rain-repelling charms. Harry cast a drying charm on his cloak. It steamed with the unpleasant odour of wet sheep.

The door of the pub dragged a bit as he tried to open it, just enough to make him shove the tiniest bit too hard and stumble head first into the room when the door suddenly gave way. He caught his footing, but not without flailing madly. He looked around furtively to find himself, of course, under the amused gaze of - how could it be otherwise? - one Severus Snape. Who raised one amused eyebrow at him.

Snape sat with his back against the wall in the corner next to a grimy window framed by a chequered curtain,. A worn leather-bound tome took up most of the table, and the tips of his fingers were blue with ink from taking notes. A half empty mug of lager gone flat some time ago at his left.

Harry looked around the room, eyes wandering over the booths and tables. It seemed that he was early. He ordered a pint of cider and wandered over to Snape's table, leaning against the window sill.

"Do you mind?"

Snape just shrugged but gathered up his paper to make room for Harry's mug.

"You don't really do light reading, do you?" Harry tilted his head to get a better view at the old book. "What language is that?"

"Greek. And before you ask, it says 'medical potions', Potter."

"Funny. And didn't we agree on first names? So, you using a translation spell or can you actually read that?"

"As you should know, translation spells only give you a vague idea. Given, the result would be more comprehensible than the average essay you handed in, it would still be disastrous if you tried to brew a potion."

"Hah, bloody, hah. You know, I would have been more impressed if you had just said that you can actually read Greek." Harry took a swig of his cider.

"Can I have a look? At the notes I mean, not the book. Greek is all... Greek to me."

Snape raised an eyebrow but scooted over, making room for Harry.

"Be my guest, but please do me the favour of leaning back should your head explode in awe. This is Ministry property."

Harry's chair scraped over the wooden floor as he leaned closer, their bodies nearly touching. Snape presence was a beacon of warmth to his left. He ran his eyes down one of the lists in Snape's spiky ornate handwriting. His knee bumped against Snape's.

Harry cleared his throat, leaning in closer, conspiratorially. "You know that at least half of those ingredients are restricted if not down right illegal."

"Is that so, Harry?" He could feel Snape's breath hot against his skin. He closed his eyes, breathing hard, unwilling to move away.

"Ashwinder eggs, rose pedals, morning dew...My, Professor, are we brewing a love potion?"

Snape snorted. "Now that would be against my probation."At Harry's frown he added: "It is a simple mood enhancer, Potter, usually administered to the chronically ill."

Harry looked up at him with big worried eyes. "Are you? You aren't, ill, are you?" His fingers closing on Snape's, squeezing them.

Snape looked at their joined fingers for one second, disbelieving, then pulled his own away as if burned. He scooted his chair a few inches away from Harry.

"I am fine, Harry. Do you see me skipping through the daisies, singing duets with bluebirds or any such nonsense?"

Harry snorted. "If this is you on a mood enhancer, I am not sure the world could take you without it."

"Exactly." Snape sounded oddly smug about it.

"Do you come here every Sunday?"

"Usually. But should you not be over there playing juvenile drinking games with your chums?"

"I'm early..."

"And so you decided to harass me..."

"Yep."

"Well then, you could buy me a beer. At least you get prompt service."

"Lager?" Harry asked, suppressing the urge to ask Snape why he came here at all if the service was so bad.

"Yes."

Harry put the beer down on the table and was about to sit down again, too, when the door opened and Ron and Hermione stumbled in, cloaks heavy with rain.

"Well, I guess, I ..."

"Go play with your chums, the adults have work to do." Snape reached for his quill, making a shooing noise.

Harry grinned.

"See you at lunch, Severus!"

:::

The wind carried away some of the dusty heat rising from the sun baked cobblestones, lending a Mediterranean glow to one of London's stuffy summer afternoons.

Harry wrestled with the fastening of his collar, sweat trickling down his neck, making his shirt stick uncomfortably to his back. A small child in pink frilly robes, her brown curls bouncing as she skipped after a harassed looking woman, gave him a sticky, ice-cream smeared grin. He winked back. Ice-cream weather, indeed.

The display in Fortescue Ice Cream Parlour was mouth watering. Harry had to repress the urge to press his nose to the glass to get a better view. Waiting in line, trying to decide between a Spaghetti-Ice with whipped cream and strawberry sauce or a double Banana-Split, he spotted something in the display that made him grin like he had eaten the proverbial canary.

The cold-charm on the Pinocchio-Cup must have been wearing off, its cone nose had drooped a bit and its Smarties mouth had slid downwards into a frown. It looked, all in all, well... Harry giggled... like Snape. Contemplating the certainty of Crucio if he presented Snape with his ice cream dopplegänger, Harry decided that Snape really needed an ice cream. Maybe just not this one.

Managing not to drop, spill or otherwise damage the two double Banana-Splits he had bought at Fortescue's, Harry stepped through the Floo into the MoM and the usual hustle and bustle of the Ministry greeted him. Nodding his curt 'hallos', trying to look busy - not a mean feat when carrying Fortescue take-away - he managed to get back to his office without having small talk forced on him. Harry put the ice cream boxes down on his desk and scratched his head. Now, where on earth was Snape's office.

When he asked Liz Crafton, the department secretary, she frowned at him but handed over the MoM Map. Harry pointed his wand at it and a small dot labelled 'Snape, S.T.' appeared in the low right corner. He waved his wand over it again in hope of it giving him more information.

'Patent Office' it said in bold letters, and that was it. No wand waving, poking or cursing would produce more than an annoyed harrumph from Liz, who was furiously scribbling notes onto a piece of parchment. Harry glanced at the charmed Fortescue paper bags and sighed.

"Mh, Liz? Where is the patent office again?"

Liz gave him a busy smile, grabbed a sheet of parchment and taped it with her wand. "Follow this. It will lead you there." The paper folded itself up into an airplane, hovering just over her desk.

"Thanks, Liz, you are a treasure!"

"Sure... Was there anything else? Some of us have work to do, you know." She gave the plane a swish with her wand, sending it off speeding along the corridor.

Harry blew her a kiss, took his ice cream and hurried to follow the paper plane.

Snape's office was at the end of a long narrow hallway. Swing-doors opened into a big hall with rows and rows upon of tables running up and down the walls. Each table was walled off with filing cabinets, creating individual, shoulder-high cubicles.

Paper planes buzzed about, just a few inches above the clerks' heads. The air was warm, sticky and stale. Harry had lost sight of 'his' airplane and had to ask one of the clerks for direction. With a curious glance and a grunt Harry, was pointed towards the far end of the office.

Snape's cubicle was tiny and neat. To a worrying degree. His pencils were aligned and sorted by size, his in-tray at an exact 90° angle to the corner of the desk. On the wall, behind Snape's rickety chair, someone - in a failed attempt of humour - had stuck a poster of a glowering Mad Eye Moody urging the populace to constant vigilance.

Harry coughed politely. Snape looked up from... from yesterday's crossword?! Harry grinned. At least he was not interrupting something important. But then, with Snape you never knew. "Potter?"

" I...eh, I was at Fortescue and ... And I got you an ice cream!" He proffered the bag.

Damn the man for reducing him to schoolboy stammering. Harry held out the ice cream box as if that would explain all, and maybe function as an improvised shield.

Snape scooted his chair back, glowering at Harry. "Is that some kind of joke? A Weasley product? Potter, if that explodes in my face I will crucio you till the last bit of your brain drips out of your ears!"

"No! What? I wouldn't do that! If you don't trust me, I brought two, you choose one." Harry put the offending bag down on the table in front of him, running a nervous hand through his hair.

"Why would you bring me ice cream?" Snape took the carton tentatively. "Out of the goodness of your heart?"

"Exactly. I swear, it is only ice cream. Fortescue. It is hot out and well, I thought you might like one, too." Harry hated how needy he sounded.

Snape had unwrapped the box and placed the paper cups on his desk.

"I mean, if you are busy or something, I can take the ice cream and ..." Harry reached for the paper cup but Snape was faster.

"I will have to let you know: Cross-words are serious business. That one has to last me all afternoon."

Harry blinked. If he didn't know better that remark could have passed as a joke.

Snape dug in the brown paper bag for the little wooden spoons and handed one to Harry. Harry took it and looked at it in puzzlement.

"Sit, Potter!" Snape gestured to the visitor's chair in front of his desk. Harry sat, still holding the spoon in front of him. Snape plucked one of the maraschino cherries off his banana-split, popping it into his mouth. "Eat. You do remember how, surely?"


	6. Chapter 6

"And then the Victoire barfed up the spinach and Mom and Fleur started a fight over whose fault it was that she was so fussy..." Ginny took a big swig from her shanty. "I don't know how long I can take this. They plan on staying another week. ANOTHER week, Harry! "

You are fishing for my couch, aren't you... "I surely can't be that bad Gin..." Yeah, tough shit since you broke up with me! Harry gave his pint a gloomy look, swirling it before knocking back the contents in one go. This evening had been a disaster. Ron and Hermione were in one of their lovey-dovey phases, exchanging saccharine glances and insipid pet names. He knew better than to point out that peachums had nothing on won won.

Neville, the traitorous prat, had not even shown up, just owled that he was working late. Bastard. Harry leaned back, surreptitiously eyeing the bar where Snape sat alone at the high top table, nursing half a pint of lager. He was of half a mind to invite him over. That would put and end to Ginny's rant for sure. He realized he had not been listening for several minutes and made a non-committal noise. Which turned out to be the wrong choice.

Ginny slammed her hand on the table. "You aren't even listening, are you?"

"No, uh, I mean... sorry Ginny, what did you just say?" Harry threw a longing glance over to where Snape sat in peace and quiet. Their eyes met and he shivered.

:::

There was a quick sharp knock on the door, Harry nearly missed it. Snape stepped into his office, giving it a critical once over and seeming to find it lacking. His sneer indicated as much. Harry gestured towards the chair.

"Hallo, Severus. What a surprise. Have a seat." Harry gestured to the padded armchair reserved for important visitors.

Snape rested his hand on the back of the chair, shaking his head, radiating uneasiness. "No need for pleasantries. I will make this as quick as possible."

"So, what can I do for you?"

"I need a favour and I am willing to pay. Within reason, mind."

Harry cocked his head, suddenly curious. "A favour, from me? Friends don't ..."

"Yes, from you. Do try to keep up, Harry." Snape cut him off before Harry could finish the sentence.

"Are you sure I can't even offer you a tea?"

Snape shook his head and glared at him.

"And you wonder why you aren't invited to parties..." Harry muttered under his breath.

"I should have known this was a bad idea. Good day, Mr Potter." Snape squared his shoulders and turned to leave.

"Wait. Severus, I'm sorry. Please? What do you want?"

Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I need three Ashwinder eggs."

"For a potion?"

"No, for breakfast. What do you think, Potter?"

Harry snorted. "Harry. Don't tell me you are brewing a love potion?"

"I should have known, Harry, of all the things to remember from class it would be this... No, I am not brewing Amortentia."

"Then tell me why you need it."

Snape glared at him. "I need it for a liver regeneration potion."

"A hangover cure? For who? Can't you get that at St. Mungos?"

"Whom. If you would let me finish... and no, I cannot. The potion is for my father."

"Can't he get it at St. Mungos?"

"No."

"Why? I mean..."

"HALF Blood Prince."

Harry stared at him blankly.

Snape sighed. "My father is a Muggle, Potter..."

"Oh right. But... I do remember, ehm, I saw some of your memories. Sorry about that, by the way. But I mean, why would you?"

Snape glared at him. "Why would I do what, Mr Potter? Let someone die because I dislike them?"

Harry shuffled some papers on his desk. He had the grace to feel ashamed.

"Will you get me those eggs or not?" Snape's fingers drummed a rhythm of impatience on the back of the armchair.

"I'm sorry. Of course, I will help you."

"This leaves the price negotiation open."

"Huh?"

"I will, of course, pay for the eggs. As for the favour. Name your price."

"Mmh, that is quite sudden." Harry's Slytherin side was all ears and providing some interesting suggestions.

"If you need time to think about it?"

"No, no. I know what I want: Dinner!" Harry grinned at Snape's flabbergasted expression.

"You want me to cook dinner for you? Don't you have a house-elf?"

"Eh, no, I don't. Kreacher's on loan to Bill and Fleur. The baby is a lot of work."

"How magnanimous of you. When?"

Harry picked up his quill, twirling it between his fingers. "When what?"

"Dinner, Harry."

"Oh, Saturday evening fine with you?"

"Let me check my overflowing social calendar." When had Harry started to think of Snape's prickliness as adorable.? "Yes, Saturday is fine. What do you want to eat?"

"Mmh, surprise me."

Snape's smirk made Harry back paddle fast. "I meant in a good way!"

"You should have said. No escargot then?"

"Escar-what?"

"Snails, Potter." He gave Harry a glance that was a thesaurus of the word "idiot."

"Oh, you mean those slimy French things. I think had them during 4th year. They're okay."

Snape gave him a rare smile. "Sometimes you surprise me, Harry. In a good way."

:::

Harry walked past the cubicles in Snape's department, levitating two mugs of coffee in front of him. He gently set them down on the cluttered table.

"Morning."

Snape peered at him over the edge of his paper, folding it neatly before putting it on top of the stack on the floor. He picked up the mug closest to him and frowned.

"This better be yours, Potter. It looks disgustingly watered down with condiments."

Harry took the mug out of his hand and gave Snape a sunny smile. "Good morning to you, too, and yes, this is mine. The aqua regia is in the other mug."

"Aren't we lucky the Ministry does not make us dine from golden plates..." Snape snorted. "I am not sure whether I should be impressed that you actually know what aqua regia is or further mock your - for the lack of a better word - choice in beverages."

Harry harrumphed in response, choosing to ignore the comment, sipping his blissfully hot, sweet, milky coffee. It really took off that early-morning, Snape-induced homicidal urge.

Snape reached down, opening one of his desk drawers, pulling out a bundled up blue chequered cloth napkin, placing it in the middle of his desk.

"Biscuit?"

"Why thanks. There's only the boring plain ones left in the staff room..." Harry reached out to take one and stopped. "Tell me you didn't..."

Snape smirked at him. "Didn't what?"

Harry helped himself to two biscuits, dunking one into his coffee.

Balancing the crumbling biscuit to his mouth he spluttered. "You bastard, you picked out all the jam-centred ones!"

Snape popped a biscuit into his mouth and chewed with exaggerated care. "Good, aren't they?"


	7. Chapter 7

Saturday came sooner than expected and before Harry could so much as protest, he was put to work peeling potatoes in his own kitchen. Snape was reading instructions from a newspaper cut out.

"Hey, is that from the Sunday edition?" Harry quipped, trying to get a better view at the recipe.

"No, Wednesday. Don't you know anything, Potter? Recipes are in the Wednesday edition." Snape set the oven to medium heat, closing the glass door, taking another look at the paper.

"Oh, I ...It seems we are at an impasse, it says here the roast takes an hour per pound." Snape glanced at his watch. "Ergo it will be ready at 8 pm."

"What do you mean? Two hours? But I'm starving. Now!" Harry added for emphasis.

Snape poured himself a glass of the red he had brought with him. "Don't you have a snack lying around, or something?"

"Well, there is that bag of Walkers that I had with sandwiches this lunch."

"That will do." He poured another glass and handed it to Harry. "Lead the way, oh master of the house."

:::

Between handfuls of crisps, the wine Snape had brought to go with the roast didn't last long. Harry dug up a left over bottle of semi-sweet champagne from New Year's. Dignity long abandoned they both sprawled on the couch, Snape's suit jacket draped over the armrest, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, Harry's feet propped up on the occasional table.

The fire crackled cosily in the background.

Harry shifted closer to Snape, drawn by the man's presence. Out of impulse he reached out and ran a finger along the vivid, pink scar on Snape's neck. Snape stiffened, his hand instantly reaching up to cover his neck, breathing hard.

"Severus, I never asked ...",Harry leaning in, trying to meet Severus's eyes.

Snape suddenly whipped around, fury in his eyes. "How on earth do you think I survived? Bloody bird cried for me, that is how."

He turned away, staring into the flames again, his voice low, defeated. "No thanks to you, either."

He took a sip from his glass, staring into the contents, there was a tremble to his words, as if the memory was still fresh, still pained him. "I was done with it. I intend to end it that night. Instead I got dumped into this purgatory of a desk job with the best thing to look forward to all week is cooking you dinner." He drained the rest of his champagne in one go and nearly jumped when Harry covered his hand with his.

"I was looking forward to this, too," His thumb gently caressing Snape's palm.

"Harry..." He looked down at their joined hand and up again at Harry. Harry licked his lips and leaned closer, gently kissing him on the mouth.

Snape's eyes went as wide as saucers and he bolted from the couch towards the kitchen. "The roast, don't you smell the roast? It's burning. Can't you smell it? I smell smoke."

Harry smiled to himself. So a chase it was.

:::

When he entered the kitchen Snape was busy fiddling with the roast, using a big ladle to scoop up the juices into a pot, presumably to make gravy later. Harry stood in the doorway admiring his arse.

"Do you need help with that?" Harry stepped up behind Severus, looking over his shoulder, his leg oh so accidentally brushing against Snape's. Snape nearly dropped the ladle.

"Get me the salt and the thyme, will you, Potter."

Harry pressed closer to Severus, reaching up to open the cabinet above the counter. There, in neat little rows, many of them still bearing the vendor's seal, stood dozens of tiny jars and bottles. Harry brushed his lips against Snape's ear "... spicy enough for you?"

Harry noticed with satisfaction that even though Severus nearly dropped the ladle he didn't move away. The roast looked good, though, after they cut off the tiny burned bit on top.

"We need something for the gravy. I know we drank all the wine, so ...?"

"Hold on, let me have a look, I doubt there is much, though." He looked mournfully at the empty wine bottle and started rummaging through the cabinets. Harry stood up and put two bottles on the counter, dusting off his trousers.

"Well, this is it, cooking sherry or.." he eyed the clear bottle with the immersed gold flakes suspiciously, "...whatever Danziger Goldwasser is?"

Snape made a grab for the cooking sherry. "Aniseed schnapps, tastes a bit like liquorice."

"Ew, well I guess that is one for the bin..."

"We could give it a try for afters."

Harry decided, after a glass or two, that is was rather pleasant indeed. Even though he thought it didn't taste of aniseed all that much. More like roses, really.

:::

"I should go." Putting down his empty glass onto the occasional table, Snape smoothed down his wrinkled waistcoat, his eyes still on Harry. Dark, hooded. Unreadable.

"Is it that late already?" Harry gave him a warm, winning, and slightly inebriated smile, forcing himself to get up from his comfortable position amidst the cushions on the couch.

Snape nodded and walked over to the floo, the heat of the fire seeping through the rough wool of his clothes. Harry stepped up next to him, revelling in the closeness, his hand reaching out, gently resting on Snape's upper arm. Touching Snape brought his spinning world into focus.

"Severus? You could stay a little longer. Have another glass, or ..."

Snape's proximity burned brighter in Harry's senses than the fire behind them. Snape shook his head silently and reached for the floo powder on the mantle when Harry's hand stopped his, their fingers intertwining.

"Harry... I don't think this is a good idea."

"Then don't think." Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to Severus's, swaying just a little. He moaned with the rightness of the contact. Harry licked his lips.

"Why?" Snape looked trapped, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild.

"I don't know." Harry shrugged, running his fingers caressingly along Snape's jaw, tangling in his hair.

"You are drunk."

Harry giggled. "Does it matter?" Harry kissed him again, his tongue teasing its way to a passionate response. "It feels right."

Snape looked like some inner argument was fought and won. He reached out and caressed Harry's cheek. "Yes, it does."


	8. Chapter 8

Harry woke at the break of dawn to gentle hands caressing his body, teasing lips ghosting over his skin. The drowsy haze of sleep mingled pleasantly with the arousal of his lover's tender touch.

Harry moaned when slippery fingers ran down his spine, teased between his cheeks, the tip of one breaching him, barely, deliciously pushing in.

Harry wriggled back against Snape's finger, wanting it all the way in, willing it to press just there. He moaned and arched his back, begging for more. "Severus, please."

Harry's quiet moan echoed loud in the hush of dawn. He felt Snape draw back and stiffen as if the sound had broken a spell. Harry turned his head to press a tender kiss to Snape's shoulder, flicking his tongue over the velvety skin. Finally, after one long hesitant moment, he felt Snape's leg nudge between his, pushing it up, Snape pushing into Harry, onto Harry until Harry lay face down on the bed moaning in pleasure.

Snape nuzzled his neck, his hands gliding over Harry's body, as if to memorize the feel of the soft hair on his arms, the crisp curls of the wiry hair leading to his cock, of every curve, every scar.

Snape's ragged breath slid like burning silk over Harry's skin when those fingers press against Harry's lips. Tasting himself on Snape's middle-finger, he sucked it in to the second knuckle, running his tongue over the length of it, teasing the tender skin where it dipped in to join the hand. Snape's moan was hot and heavy on his skin and Harry found himself desperately, passionately kissed.

Snape started to move with the rhythm his tongue dictated, slow and deep and oh so good. Harry never would have thought Snape to be capable of such tenderness and caring.

Slow and sensual turned into hot and passionate. Snape's hand joined his and Harry's last thought before he losing consciousness to glorious white hot orgasm was that sex had never felt this right, this perfect before.

He felt the gentle caress of a wordless cleaning charm whisper over his skin. Sleep claimed him again not long after, his head resting in the crock of Snape's shoulder, where it belonged.

When Harry awoke again, he was alone.

He rolled over and yawned, lazily stretching in the Sunday morning sun, basking in the heady buzz glow that a really good fuck will leave behind. He reached over and pulled the other pillow close, burring his face in it.

Snape had left. He wasn't that surprised. It was such a Snape-ish thing to do, too. Sneaking out in the dead of night... For all that the idea of having Snape here with him did have erotic merits, Harry could not, for the life of him, picture Snape having breakfast in bed. He accioed his bathrobe and went into the kitchen to fix himself some coffee. Waiting for the kettle to boil he flipped through the Sunday edition of the Prophet, noting with a grin that Snape had pinched the entertainment section with the crossword.

His stomach grumbled. He really needed to start shopping for groceries at one point. Chucking back his coffee decided to have a quick shower and grab lunch at the Three Bs. He penned a short noticed to Ron to meet him there if he is free and flooed it over. Even years later he still could not get himself to replace Hedwig.

:::

Stepping under the warm spray he let the warm water run over his face, down his chest and felt it glide sensuously over his body. He moaned, exposing his neck to the smooth flow, falling on his face, catching on his lower lip, filling his mouth, reviving in delicious aftershocks the feeling of Snape's fingers, mouth, tongue on his skin.

Harry reached for the soap, the motion of his hand covering his body in sudsy white lather, bubbles following the flow of the water, dripping, mingling dancing in creamy swirls towards the drain. Harry caught some of them in the hollow of his hand, smoothing them down his chest, imagining the silky friction to be Snape's hands, Snape's mouth. Harry moaned, steadying himself on the white tiled wall. He reached past the shower curtain, fumbling for his wand on the little wooden stool next to the bathtub. With a swish and flick and a muttered word the terry-cloth started to slide over the ivory bar, gently lathering his neck and shoulders.

Enjoying the feel of invisible fingers massaging his back, Harry let the memory of last night seduce him into orgasm.

:::

On Monday, Harry entered the staff room carrying a big paper bag with iced buns, whistling a virulently obnoxious tune he had picked up - and strapped to his back, lacking the ability to carry one - this morning from the wireless. Emptying the pastries into a large wooden bowl, he stuffed one in his mouth and stepped over to the counter to pour himself a cup of the ever present, ever mediocre office coffee, adding two spoonful of sugar and, after giving it a haphazard taste, adding three more and some milk for good measure.

Snape had made the coffee, he was pretty certain of that. Snape was... standing in the corner clutching a mug, no, striding past Harry with a curt nod and a 'Morning Potter'. Snape was ...gone.

Harry watched the door slam shut and realized that Snape, once again, had stolen his breakfast. For some reason it made him smile.

:::

At lunch Harry barely saw so much as Snape's back before the older man practically grabbed his tray and fled from the room. It took two casual strolls past Snape's cubicle that had the man suspiciously absent for it to dawn on Harry that Snape was avoiding him.

So it was that Snape found himself pulled into the stationary store room not far from Potter's office and trapped against the door.

"What the hell.."

Harry grinned up at him. "I think that's my question, Severus. I was starting to get the impression that you are avoiding me."

"What ever gave you that impression?" Snape tried to say with unconvincing nonchalance. It would have worked better without the blush creeping onto his cheek.

"Let's start with you being gone Sunday morning." Harry nuzzled his neck. "Another go would have been nice."

"Potter!"

Harry ran his lips teasingly over Snape's, his tongue flickering the tiniest bit between Snape's lips. Snape's breathing became more ragged, his hands like claws on Harry's shoulders.

"If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say so."

"If this is a joke Potter..."

Harry kissed him. With lips and teeth and tongue.

"No," he sighed as he pulled Severus's shirt out of his trousers and slid his hands up his chest, "This," he kissed him again, "is a beginning."

-end


End file.
